


christmas in the room

by antimystery



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimystery/pseuds/antimystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having to work on Christmas Eve-Eve would be way less of a hassle if a certain detective wasn't so huffy about <i>another</i> certain detective avoiding her under the mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	christmas in the room

                Skulduggery sighed, parking the Bentley in front of their tiny, dilapidated destination. “Are you going to be mad about this for the rest of the day, or will it just be through all the long car rides?”

                Valkyrie stomped out into the snow. “Both. I can multitask.”

                “They’re the same task, though.”

                “Then it’ll be even easier to put all my abilities into sulking, won’t it?”

                “And here I thought you just naturally excelled at it.”

                Skulduggery got to work picking the lock on the front door of the ramshackle house, while Valkyrie stood behind him and fumed. He gently pushed the door open, careful to avoid any squeaks, and lowered his voice. “Don’t stomp in.”

                “I don’t 'stomp'.”

                “Valkyrie, you're an astoundingly good detective for someone who falls down so much, but you do. You stomp.”

                She tiptoed into the dark house, exaggerating the lightness of her steps. “That better?”

                “Yes, actually, but you could also just take your shoes off.”

                “I don’t know who lives here! What if I step on something and get tetanus?”

                “You won’t get tetanus,” Skulduggery said, softly closing the door. “You  _will_ find out who lives here very, very soon if you keep raising your voice. Stealth, remember?”

                “Who does live here, anyway?” Valkyrie asked, sliding her boots off in the entryway. “A witch?”

                “Not quite,” Skulduggery said, walking into the house’s cluttered living room.

                “Are you sure? Seriously, I’ve been in a witch’s house. It was crap. This is crap too.  You were there, remember? It was like, the worst.”

                “The woman who lives here is a perfectly normal old mortal woman who happens to be asleep right here.” He pointed to a reclining chair positioned in front of the room’s small TV. Valkyrie’s eyes had adjusted to the dim evening light inside the house, and she could make out the form of a wrinkled old woman clutching a remote control, softly snoring.

                “Jesus!” Valkyrie hissed, stepping backwards. “What happened to stealth?”

                “Well, she’s not going to hear  _me.”_

                “And if she wakes up and finds a skeleton rooting through her things?”

                “She’ll just think it’s a spectre of death coming for her in the night.”

                “Don’t joke about that! You’re what, like four times as old as her?”

                “I wear it better.”

                “You’re a skeleton.”

                A face flowed over Skulduggery’s skull, allowing him to roll his eyes. “Is this better?”

                Valkyrie cringed, still hovering in the hallway outside of the room.

                “What, is this a bad one?”

                “You’ve had better, but hey! Now if she wakes up, she’ll think it’s a regular old break-and-entry, and she’ll, I don’t know, shoot us or something!”

                Skulduggery took down the façade. “Why would you think she had a gun?”

                “She doesn’t have Christmas lights anywhere. She doesn’t have any decorations at all. Not even mistletoe. She’s  _clearly_ a Grinch. Hence, gun.”

                “ _I_  don’t have any decorations up.”

                “Yeah, and you have a gun. You literally have a gun on you, on your person, right now.”

                Skulduggery gave the room one last discerning once-over, and exited it for the kitchen. “It’s not here.”

                Valkyrie followed him. “The gun?”

                “No, the head.”

                “….The head?”

                “Yes, the head. The head we’re here looking for. Unless…” He trailed off, opening and closing every cabinet in the room.

                “Unless what? Unless it flew away? Unless that old lady ate it?”

                Skulduggery opened the fridge, holding the switch on the front down to keep the light inside turned off. “Unless you were so preoccupied with sulking over a common parasitic plant that you ignored the entire explanation of this case.”

                “Wait, we’re looking for  _plant_ parasites? Are they like, aliens? Cool.”

                “Mistletoe is a tree parasite. We’re still following the case of the murderer whose victims’ body parts end up scattered across the country, mysteriously phasing into buildings and residences with no apparent point of entry.”

                “Maybe they move themselves.”

                “I really don’t think they do.” Skulduggery opened and shut the oven, apparently giving up on this room as well. He headed towards the stairs. “We’re just looking for a head today, to identify the latest victim. Said head’s location has been narrowed down to right here, inside this house.” Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned around and looked at her. “How would a head move around on its own?”

                “It could roll.”

                “With nothing to propel it?”

                “Well, then it could turn itself on its front, and sort of inch along, like…” Valkyrie opened and shut her mouth a few times.                  

                “Like a fish?”

                “What? No, like pulling itself forward with its teeth. A  _fish?_ ”       

                “You look like you’re doing the…the fish thing.”

                “The fish thing?”

                “Never mind.”  

                “No, I want to know! What’s the ‘fish thing’? Use your words. Show me.”

                He led her into a small, very frilly bedroom, and pulled up another façade, miming a fish inhaling water.

                Valkyrie immediately burst into laughter. Skulduggery shushed her.

                “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, just – do you know how ridiculous you look?” She started laughing again. “I’m sorry! I can’t stop!”

                He took down his façade, its grouchy expression disappearing along with it. “If you wake her up, I’m making you go down there and pretend to be the ghost of Christmas past.”              

                Valkyrie choked back the last of her laughter. “Why is it even that bad if we wake her up? Is she dangerous?” She fake-gasped. “I told you she was a witch!”

                “Would you give the witch thing a rest? She’s totally harmless, but do  _you_ want to have to explain to her why two very well-dressed strangers are snooping around in her house the night before the night before Christmas?”

                “Point taken.”

                They moved through the bedroom quickly. Valkyrie felt like a little kid again, trying to hunt down where her parents had hidden her presents in their house. She peeked under the dusty, doily-covered bed. “That face isn’t half bad when it’s not, you know, trying to do the fish thing.”

                Skulduggery shut the closet’s doors. “The  _fish thing_  is not leaving this house.”

                “Well, if  _that’s_ what I was missing out on underneath the mistletoe,” Valkyrie said, rifling through the wardrobe’s tightly-stuffed drawers, “I think I’m better off not having lived through it.”

                Skulduggery didn’t respond.

                “What, was that what the interns were giggling about? Have they heard a story that I haven’t?”

                “It’s not in here.”

                “Ugh, good. I’d hate to be a severed head hanging out with all this knitware.”

                “It’s more like an e _xploded_ head,” Skulduggery corrected, ducking into the bathroom. Valkyrie looked in the guest bedroom.

                “It’s kind of sad,” she muttered, looking at the neatly-made, unused bed.

                “Having your head blown off and blasted into a stranger’s home?” He walked into the bedroom. “I suppose so.”

                “Well, yeah, for the person getting decapitated, but I’m talking about the bedroom. It looks like it’s never been touched. It’s Christmas, and this woman is totally alone.”            

                “Sentimental holiday feelings again?”

                She threw a pillow at his head. “Grinch.”

                “It’s not in here, either,” Skulduggery said, ignoring her. He pulled the closet doors wide open, unleashing a downpour of clutter around him. The shelves were densely packed with boxes, and it seemed like the old woman had simply shoved armfuls of things in front of them and closed the doors behind her. It reminded Valkyrie of how she cleaned her own bedroom at home.

                “Won’t she have, uh, heard all of that?” Valkyrie asked, stepping around the mess on the ground.  

                “Most likely, yes,” Skulduggery said, feeling around for something on the ceiling of the closet. “However, if we get into the attic before she hears or sees us, she’ll probably figure her closet shelves finally gave up on her.”

                “Probably?”       

                He unlatched the small attic door. “Probably. Would you like a boost?”

                “No thank you,” she said with a smile, and brushed past him. “It’s just a little bit of climbing.”

                “Really, I’m not sure the shelves can support you.” She glared at him. “They’re not very good shelves,” he added in a hurry.

                “It’s like, a two foot climb. No magic required.” Valkyrie stepped on the lowest shelf, pulling herself up. “See? Easy.” She put her foot on the next shelf, reaching for another one to grab with her hand, and promptly fell backwards into Skulduggery, bringing both shelves – and everything on them – down with her.

                 _A boost might have been nice,_ she started to say, but they both heard the old lady stir downstairs. Skulduggery cursed and brushed past her and raised himself into the attic on the air, reaching down to pull Valkyrie up and shut the door below her. 

               “We’re going to have to be really, really quiet,” he told her, listening carefully for any signs that the woman had finally noticed them. They waited together, motionless and silent save for Valkyrie’s breath, until they heard the woman’s snoring resume below them.

                “Wow,” Valkyrie said, slightly astonished. “She really just does not care at all.”

                The attic was crammed full of cardboard boxes. Old, broken furniture was scattered in clusters across the room, and every movement Valkyrie made stirred up a cloud of dust. Weak moonlight filtered in through the grime on the single, high window at the front of the house.

                They had been searching through boxes of clothes and behind bins of, well,  _junk,_ for hours when Valkyrie broke their silence.

                “There’s literally no Christmas decorations anywhere up here.  None at all.“ She shoved the squat box she was looking through aside.

                “There aren’t any bodies yet, either.”

                “We’re just looking for a head, though. An entire body would be a Christmas miracle.”

                Skulduggery laughed, knee-deep in his own pile of boxes. There was no way for him to physically exit the conversation. Valkyrie pounced on the opportunity.

                “So why didn’t you want to kiss me?”

                His eye sockets were dark and emotionless as usual, but from the way his head snapped up, Valkyrie knew he was startled.

                “I mean,” she continued, trying to hide her own nervousness, “it’s a pretty highly rated experience, if I do say so myself. Once in a lifetime, really.”

                For a moment, Skulduggery sounded tired. “Valkyrie, we have a head to find.”

                “Yeah, but it’s going to take hours. If I don’t talk about something I’ll die of boredom, and you’ll have to prop me up on something so I can go to the Sanctuary Christmas party and look nicer than everyone even when I’m a corpse.”

                He groaned. “Don’t even bring up the party. Out of every possible topic, you have to choose this one? You could talk about anything else. Tell me about the meaning of Christmas. Tell me what part of Beryl Alice last bit.”

                “Nope, sorry, it has to be this. Was it because you’re so anti-Christmas?”

                “I’m not anti-Christmas. We’ve been over this.”               

                “So then, why not? It’s just a tradition. It’s not a big deal.”

                “If it’s not a big deal, then why does it matter to you?”

                “It’s just something people do!” Valkyrie hissed across the attic.

                Skulduggery remained calm. “When have we ever done what ‘people’ do? And when, in your entire time of knowing me, have I ever demonstrated that I care the slightest bit about holiday tradition?”

                “You’re festive enough to get me a present every year.”

                He pulled out a lumpy figurine from the box he was looking through, inspecting it like it was a work of art. “That’s not for Christmas. It’s for you.”

                “And this wouldn’t have been for me?”

                He put the statue down, not looking at her. Hesitating. “I didn’t want to do something like kissing you in front of an – in front of an intern.”

                “There were like, five of them.”               

                “That’s even worse.”

                “But interns don’t matter.”

                “The interns weren’t what I cared about.”

                “So what did you care about?”

                He navigated over to her, through the maze of boxes. “I cared about you, and about kissing you, because it wouldn’t be something I would want to do to entertain a horde of interns.” He stepped closer to her. “Because it wouldn’t just be tradition for me.”

                Valkyrie paused. “So kissing me is something you’d… _want_ to do?”

                Skulduggery laughed.

                “Oh, thanks.”

                “I’m sorry,” he apologized, still chuckling a bit. “Sorry. The idea that I  _wouldn’t_ want to kiss you is just…ridiculous.” He looked at her, frowning seriously at him. “Sorry. Again.”

                She lessened her glare, but her face remained serious. “So you  _would_ want to kiss me? Like, hypothetically.”

                “Hypothetically, yes.”

                “And how long, exactly, have you been open to the possibility of hypothetically kissing your partner?” 

                He still sounded hesitant, but Valkyrie could hear the smile in his voice. “Longer than what is entirely morally permissible.”

                “Yeah, but we’ve never been that great at morals, anyway.”     

                “Granted, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

                “You let me get punched in the face like, once a week.”

                “I don’t mean that kind of discomfort.” He looked up at her. “Sorry about that, though.”

                “It’s ok.”             

                They stood in front of each other, unsure of what to say next, when Valkyrie blurted out, “I was twelve.”

                “When you were first punched in the face?”

                “No!” She thought for a moment. “Actually, yeah, but that’s not what I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I had a crush on you when I was twelve.”

                Valkyrie knew that if he had had eyebrows, they would have been practically raised off his head. She would have wanted to punch him. “Oh, really?” he asked, exaggerating the casual tone in his voice.

                “Really. Yes. Shut up.”

                “Twelve?”

                “Yes.”

                “Even with the wig, and the—“

                “Shut up. Yes. I shouldn’t have told you.”

                “No, no, keep going. This is fun.”

                She crossed her arms, stirring up the dust that had settled on her. “I had a crush on you when I was twelve, but then I found out how much of an annoying idiot you are.”

                “And you still chose to hang around me? How touching.”

                “Of course. You’re my best friend.”

                “And naturally, you’re mine.” He drew closer to her. Valkyrie was used to standing next to Skulduggery, used to flying next to him with his arm pulled tight around her waist, but her heart was racing. “And the crush?” he asked, still trying to sound casual, but with much less success.

                "The crush thing and the best friend thing can be happening at once. I can multitask.”

                “Ah.”

               "I'm very good at it."

                They both looked at the floor.

                “So, non-hypothetically, if I were to kiss you, it would be—“

                “Please.”

                He drew closer to her, familiar arms wrapping around her waist, and with his face so close he almost whispered in her ear, he said—

               “Valkyrie, I don’t have a face.”

               She stared at him. “…I had picked up on that, yeah.”

               “And you still…?”

               “Yes. Moron.”

“Really?”

               “Do I have to do everything myself around here?” Valkyrie leaned up on her toes, her boots still on the floor downstairs, and just once, she kissed Skulduggery’s teeth.

               He cleared his throat. “Alright, then.”

               “What, no  _‘most girls wouldn’t want to kiss a skeleton’_?” She pulled her arms around his bony neck, putting on a faux-dramatic voice. “No  _‘you’re not like other girls, Valkyrie’_?”

               “Well, most skeletons aren’t this handsome,” he informed her. “And you already know you’re not like most other people, period.”

               She shrugged. “It’d still be nice to hear.”

               He sighed. “Valkyrie Cain, not only are you markedly unlike any other human on the planet, you are also by far the most annoying, smart, beautiful girl that I’ve ever –“

               “There’s the head.”

               “Excuse me?”

               “I see the head.”

               “So you instruct me to list off the reasons why you’re unique and important to me, which is absolutely something I am entirely too un-sentimental and dignified to do, and in the middle of such a rare, heartfelt display, you just sort of zone out and solve the case?”

               “You started the list with annoying!”

               “Yes, but I didn’t  _elaborate_ on annoying. I could have. Believe me, I could have.”

               “Well, it turned into good things, and that part obviously would have taken you hours, so yes, I started to drift a little bit. I can’t imagine how you’ll ever forgive me.”

               “I’m sure I’ll find a way. So where is it?”

               She pointed at a discarded bedframe behind Skulduggery. “Behind the thing. I just saw it.”

               “The thing?”

               She pointed at it. “The bed thing! The thing that holds the mattress!”  She gestured wildly. “The…the mattress prison. The thing. Behind there.”

               He walked over to the bedframe, lifting it out of the way, and Valkyrie darted in, pulling away the boxes that would crash down without it. Skulduggery grabbed the head by its hair, fishing for something in his pocket.

               “Do you have, like, a special bag they gave you for that or something?”

               “Actually, yes,” he replied, throwing a folded-up square of shiny fabric over to her. “Could you unfold that?”

               “I’ll do my best.”

               He dropped the head in unceremoniously, tying the top shut like a bag of garbage. “Mattress prison?”

               “Fish thing?”

               “Don’t.”

               “Hey, I’m the one that solved the case. I’m entitled to bring up whatever embarrassment I want. Thanks to me, the job’s done, and we can go home. I can get ready for the Christmas party that you are  _definitely_  bringing me to.” She looked around the ransacked attic. “But, uh, how do we plan on getting out of here? Stealth and all.”

               “We could, in all honesty, probably just walk out,” Skulduggery said, handing Valkyrie the head-bag. “But the window is bound to be more fun.”

               “The window, then.”

               He popped off the screen and opened the small window. “After you.”

               Like she had so many times before, Valkyrie jumped out into the cold night air.

* * *

 

               Laughing, Valkyrie pulled open the Bentley’s passenger-side door, throwing herself in. Skulduggery slid into the seat next to her, fishing his car keys out from his pocket. Still holding the head in her lap, as it was apparently not allowed to touch the Bentley’s upholstery even once, Valkyrie’s face fell.

               “Uh. Skulduggery?”

               “Yes?”

               “My boots are still in there.”

               “Oh, hell,” he said, and he ran out of the car.

* * *

 

               The Sanctuary Christmas party was a regular yearly event. Sometimes, Valkyrie went to it, sometimes she skipped it, and sometimes, she was too busy saving the world to show up. Usually, Skulduggery was grumpy through the entire thing, and usually, everyone else in attendance was acting like a drunk idiot.

               This year was different, though. This year,  _she_ could be a drunk idiot as well.

               Valkyrie had specifically bought a dress for the occasion. It was a deep red colour, and though it was slightly too short for the season, it fit perfectly.

               She heard a familiar knock at her bedroom window, and hurried over to let Skulduggery in.

               “So, where’s the chocolate? The flowers?”

               Skulduggery, brushing snow off of himself, paused. “Uh. Presumably still in a store somewhere?”

               “Thank God,” Valkyrie sighed, falling backwards onto her bed. “I would have pushed you back out the window with them.” She sat up. “Maybe not the chocolate.”

               “I’ll make a note of it. Valkyrie, you look wonderful.”

               “Hot. Hot is the word you’re looking for. You’re allowed to say ‘hot’ now.” She looked him up and down. He was wearing a dark grey suit, his shirt crisp and white. Definitely not festive, but one of her favourite looks nonetheless. Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, smiling at him. “I guess I’m allowed to say it now, too.”

               “Ready to go?”

               “If you are. Are you going to get all skittish in front of the interns again?”

               “I don’t intend to, no.”

               “Really? I’m holding you to that. There’ll be a lot of them, all clustered together everywhere. I think they might be like, our fans.”

               He wrapped an arm around her waist, and they left her room. “We can’t help being as charming and impressive as we are.”

               “True.”

               “It  _is_ true.”

               “What, that we’re too likable for our own good?”

               He set her down on the ground, but left his arm around her. “That’s also true, but no.”

               “Then what?”

               “You do look hot.”

               Valkyrie inhaled sharply, the air cold in her throat. “That word sounds good when you say it.”

               “Really? I always thought it was a little undescriptive.”

               “No, no, it’s good. You should use it more. Trust me, it's good.”

               He opened the Bentley door for her. “Then I’ll remember to use it. For you.”

               Valkyrie kissed him on the cheekbone, not having to raise herself up at all in her heels. “Why, thank you, Mr. Pleasant.”

               He got in beside her. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Cain.”

               The instant they arrived at the party, at least ten of their co-workers lost a very long-running bet.

**Author's Note:**

> for skeleton committee's MISTLETOE FIC SLAMJAMATHON 2013. title is a sufjan song because i'm trash and i've never not been trash.


End file.
